


at a coffee shop

by huphilpuffs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Introspection, M/M, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huphilpuffs/pseuds/huphilpuffs
Summary: Dan and Phil's trips to Starbucks over the years.





	at a coffee shop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obsessivelymoody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Moody! I hope it's a good one!
> 
> I know this isn't much, but you've been a great support, help, and friend to me and I wanted to do a little something for your birthday. A little tumblr searching told me coffee shop aus are some of your favourites, but meet-cutes aren't my forte, so I wrote you this little coffee shop non-au instead. I hope you like it. <3

The first time Phil brings Dan to Starbucks, he holds the door open and pays for his drink.

Outside, the Manchester air is growing chilly with autumn breezes. People walk up and down the streets, and cars can be heard through panes of glass, and Phil doesn’t care about any of it.

His heart is racing. His hands are shaking. His knee is pressed against Dan’s, their whole bodies wedged close on a sofa in the corner of the room. And though part of him had feared that this would be a lame place for a first date, had fretted over if Dan would like it up until he was pacing the train station earlier, he kind of thinks it’s perfect.

Dan smiles over the rim of his cup when he takes a sip, making the cute little dimple Phil’s been dying to see in person dip in his cheek.

Phil feels his own warm in response.

There, sitting in their own little corner of cafe, they talk about everything and anything, nervous rambles fueled by months of anticipation and hearts brimming with feelings.

Dan’s finally next to him, so of course it’s perfect.

\---

Dan moves to Manchester on another autumn day.

It’s warmer outside, the sun still beating down like it does through the summer. When they go to Starbucks to celebrate, it glares through the window, casting spots of gold against Dan’s cheeks.

Phil pays for their drinks again. It’s Dan’s day to celebrate, is how he justifies it. Besides, Dan will be living on a uni budget soon and Phil knows how tight that can be.

Dan sticks out his tongue at that, plucking his drink from Phil’s hand.

They sit on the same sofa as the first day, today and every time they’ve been here together since then. Phil presses a little closer this time, a little more comfortable sharing Dan’s space. His heart isn’t racing, and his hands aren’t shaking, but there’s a warmth through his whole body that has him smiling through their whole coffee break.

In a bit, they’ll go back to Dan’s uni halls to unpack his life from cardboard boxes.

For now, Phil watches his boyfriend take a sip of his iced coffee, and revels in knowing he won’t have to say goodbye like he has every time before.

\---

There’s a certain irony, Phil thinks, to them going back when Dan drops out of uni.

There’s been countless trips in between, quick drop-ins on busy days or procrastination periods that bled into long stays. The cafe is familiar now, warm and comfortable. The perfect place to steady them in the midst of life-altering decisions, Phil thinks.

Dan holds the door open for him, though the romance of it has faded over the years.

He pays for their drinks, too. Now that he’ll have more YouTube money and less student debt, it’s the least he can do, he says, as though they don’t share most things.

The sofa in the corner is mentally designated as theirs. They sit side by side, stirring their drinks without saying a word.

Phil clinks their cups together, though the paper is soundless, because it feels like it should be celebrated. Dan’s taking care of himself and embarking on a new journey and, despite his lingering concern, it’s a moment to be proud of. One that’ll be important to them for years to come, Phil thinks.

He cheers to danisnotonfire.

Dan kicks him playfully in retribution, even as his laughter makes his dimple pop.

\---

London’s streets are busier, its people louder.

The Starbucks they step into his different, and yet almost the same. Baristas wear green aprons. The menu stares back at them from where its hanging on the wall. There’s a sofa in the corner, unoccupied and waiting.

Which is good, because they still don’t have a sofa in their flat and Phil’s missed sitting on one.

They have everything to figure out, and yet no words to say. A whole new career, home, life is laid out before them, but Phil can sip his caramel macchiato, listening to the quiet cafe music, and ignore every overwhelming whirlwind in his life. Dan, he hopes, can too.

Because this is still the easy part.

 _They’re_ still the easy part, all quiet conversations and shared aspirations.

Everything is scary and confusing and changing, but Dan’s still sitting next to him on a sofa in Starbucks, sipping a too-sweet drink and smiling as he does.

Phil can handle the rest.

\---

The thing about warmth and comfort is that, on some days, you need it.

Dan, especially, needs it.

So Phil slips into their local Starbucks alone, his coat heavy over his shoulders, fringe flat over his forehead. He tucks his hands into his pockets and stares at the ground as he waits in line, swaying to music he’s hardly listening to because it’s easier than standing still.

Back home, Dan’s probably curled up on the sofa, still wearing his pyjamas, scrolling apathetically through posts he doesn’t care to read. Not today.

It’s one of those days.

Phil’s glad the years have taught him how to handle them.

The lady at the counter smiles when he gets there. He orders two caramel macchiatos, because that’s their comfort drink, and thanks her when she hands them to him.

Outside, the air is cold. The cups of coffee warm his palms as he walks back to the flat, smiling because he knows, by now, that the drink will help just a bit.

They’re his own portable comfort for the person he loves.

And that’s enough.

\---

Starbucks, Phil thinks, is their place.

Over the years, it’s become a quiet routine, unspoken and understood, like so many other things in their life. They don’t hold the door for each other anymore, not often. They don’t discuss who’s paying for their drinks, because their money is so shared it doesn’t matter anymore. They’ve lived together for so long Phil can hardly imagine the giddy thrill of sharing a city for the first time, though he remembers that day.

There’s nothing to celebrate when they go to Starbucks that day, most days.

Dan orders a caramel macchiato and a peppermint latte for Phil, because he enjoys the festive drinks.

Phil goes to sit down. Dan hands him his coffee with a joking eyeroll when Phil fails to thank him for the tremendous sacrifice of standing up for a few extra minutes.

They talk about video ideas and video games, about anime and vacation days, about everything and nothing at all.

And for a moment, Phil thinks about having sat next to an eighteen-year-old Dan with shy eyes, narrower shoulders and a fringe straightened over his forehead. About a giddy afternoon of endless expectations that set up everything he couldn’t have imagined at the time. About everything they’ve done since then.

Dan bumps their knees together, like a quiet reminder to stop thinking such sappy things.

So Phil does, and shows him a video of a dog that came up on his Instagram feed that morning.


End file.
